


dancing across the fire

by dannyikigay



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: 90's kinda vibes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Cuckolding, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Gratuitous Smut, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Introspection, Lovesickness, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Trans Allen Walker, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannyikigay/pseuds/dannyikigay
Summary: Allen is kissing Lavi, Lavi is bucking his hips up and he’s about to cum, Tyki is nosing through Allen’s and he’s gasping with that masculine, hoarse voice of his, the euphoria is rising higher and summer is stifling, summer is hazy, summer is sad, and Allen couldn’t be any more filled with immense love. He knows that when it will be over, Tyki will ride with his friends and Allen will have to study for a brighter future, Lavi will smile and shrug it off like it’s nothing, and they would dance to the parties because noise is the only escape from the deafening torture of their minds.





	dancing across the fire

**Author's Note:**

> the title of the fic comes from the song "joy" by slowdive. i'd be happy to get some comments. this is an exercise and mostly smut but i enjoy the vibe it gives off. hope you enjoy as well!
> 
> *wink* a new poker pair project is coming.

They’re in Allen’s room, because his apartment is an old little thing, a suburban (almost disquieting) space of papers, of old photos that will never reproduce the memories they contain, even if they mimic (ignite) feelings from old times; Allen has books on his top shelf, probably things he never read or might have dropped because college is demanding and he has no time but he _has_ it, but most of the time he's feeling hazy and high and words cannot form in his head, no images he can see, nothing he wants to imagine.  
  
There are glasses on his furniture, a pair of jeans rippled on his chair, the walls are astoundingly white and his bed is a mess of sheets, of clothes, of tears and restless nights. Because most of the time he’s listening to his favourite songs with Lavi, long hours spent on reminiscing at the chords of an electric guitar, sometimes the sound is too heavy, sometimes he can _feel_ some words, and he’s drinking a beer, sometimes he’s smoking a blunt, and he is in love, but his whole room is a mess and he can’t control the flow of his thoughts, the repetition of insane (vapid) mirages before his eyes, his gleaming lips aching for a kiss, for one kiss: Tyki’s kiss.  
  
During those times he likes to talk to Lavi, because Lavi can fake a laugh and he knows about all the books and he’s actually a diligent student. So he helps Allen, and they exhale horrible laughter, breathless chuckles that feel smothering; and Lavi is his best friend, really, the kind who saw Allen make out with the whole college, laugh with the whole college, smile (falsely polite) to the whole college, and still love a man who’s _not_ from the college, someone who likes to cause trouble way too much and still has got the heart of a good man and a careless spirit.  
  
They don’t call each other that often, because if they do, Tyki might be gambling or dealing or selling drugs and he can’t respond, and it makes Allen ache, fingers slowly trailing down his own belly until they slip under his jeans and he starts rubbing his own folds, teasing his sensitive clit at the thought of Tyki’s hands smothering him, loving him, the sound of his voice dropping lower and lower and lower, more than it could physically reach, as Tyki whispers that he loves Allen, loves him so much it makes him feel like dying.  
  
But this night Tyki is not gambling, he is not dealing or selling drugs; he is smoking a long joint and his eyes are sparkling, pure gold synthesis of his vicious lust, and he might be looking at no point in particular, or he might be appreciating the way Lavi’s chin is buried between Allen’s folds, the way his nose is squished against Allen’s clit and his tongue is all stretched out to lick and flick his sensitive spots, and his nostrils are flaring, he’s inhaling Allen’s smell and he’s moaning like he’s taken fucking aphrodisiacs, while Allen’s small hands pull his red hair aggressively, pulling him against his damp cunt, spreading his legs so that Lavi can suck his labia and tease it with the sweetest rolls of his tongue, red lips parting with a pop as he sniffs Allen’s pussy, looks up at him with his only emerald eye and laughs, laughs breathlessly.  
  
“It's a fucking drug.”  
  
And it is, it must be, it is addictive. Allen’s pussy, Allen’s love, Allen’s breath, soul, smiles, tears. Allen is squirming on the mattress, keeps his legs open and rejoices the way Lavi’s eye sparkles at the sight, he must imagine how it feels to be trapped inside that warmth, thick cock stretching Allen’s pussy until he’s sore and he’s so loose it can fit so many other cocks, all for him to take, all for him to grow numb to emotions and forget, forget, forget, sexual desire on his mind, nothing else, vision blurred and ecstasy permeating his whole being as Lavi eats him out and Tyki is watching, he’s always watching, always evaluating, always s _tudying_ him because he loves him, loves his beauty, his ugliness, his different animalistic shades, and Allen feels safe being watched by Tyki, but it is also kind of saddening, maddening; Tyki is there - will he always be?  
  
Tyki is not even stroking his own cock, he’s still smoking that fucking blunt that fills the room with the nauseating smell of weed but Allen knows he loves it, he loves to watch his boy, his baby, his darling writhe and roll his head back at someone else’s touch; he loves to hear Allen’s needy voice, spitefully pitched higher than usual, disgraceful sounds that mix with the constant flicks of someone else’s tongue on his pussy to create a brutal symphony of ancient instincts.

Allen loves it, Allen loves him, Allen loves everyone that loves what he is (or pretends to), and Tyki was never jealous, mostly possessive, but still masochistic to the point that he _craved_ to experience what Allen was like when another man was taking him, forcefully, cruelly, repentinely.

It always ends too soon, and Allen is left to his own thoughts, _and_ Tyki is the one holding him into his arms, always, laughing with him or caressing him when Allen cries, when Allen sulks, when Allen rambles and when Allen keeps quiet.

Tyki smokes his blunts and he’s ruined and he knows it, he lives for the thrill; but he never once gave Allen his weed, because Allen is a beautiful creature, with so much talent, such a sweet voice, an aching soul.

(“I'm not addicted,” Tyki said once. Clearly, his lips curled up in a smug smile, almost traitorous; his eyes were lucid and affectionate, his voice was vibrating, his tone was breaking and his love was blooming when he caressed Allen’s cheek and whispered, only one time, “you're my only drug.”)  
  
Tyki is fucking beautiful with his curls left loose, his tormenting gaze and his broad shoulders; Allen is laughing and he doesn’t know why, but he combs his fingers through Lavi’s hair and cups his freckled cheek, guiding him back up to press his lips against his in a fervent, hot, slippery kiss. Lavi tastes like Allen’s pussy, and his kiss doesn't know coordination; he is swirling his tongue around Allen’s, he is sucking it, he is holding Allen’s waist and rubbing himself against Allen’s warmth.  
  
“You're addictive, Allen,” Lavi mouths against Allen’s lips, his brows are pinched in a vehement display of affection and his forehead is pressed against Allen’s, his green eye melts into Allen’s silver iris, and words are hermetic, words are left unanswered and secretive, “you're dirty,” Lavi continues, presses another kiss to the corner of Allen’s mouth and his hands tighten on Allen’s hips, “beautiful,” Allen smiles, kisses his nose, “dazzling,” and Lavi is flushed, whispering words with a voice that doesn’t even sound like his own.  
  
“I want to be fucked,” Allen demands, and with a swift twist of his waist he switches their positions, he’s now sitting on Lavi’s lap, and a delicate yet firm hand pushes Lavi to lay on his back and let Allen satiate his needs. “I want your cock,” Allen murmurs, hand reaching down to stroke Lavi’s erection, thumb caressing the slit, smearing the dripping precum all over his foreskin with meticulous, desperate haste.  
  
He can hear Tyki breathe out a laugh, right there, behind him, and his slow, careful footsteps make Allen’s heart beat with anticipation; his nerves are alight, his heart is burning, adrenaline flickers into his blood and he feels shameful, he feels despicable, but he loves it, he loves him, he loves them, hates himself. Allen is not entirely naked, because he wears Tyki’s loose, old black shirt, and it sticks to his sweaty skin, it burns him alive, like sunshine on his pale back. He tilts his head just slightly, glances over his shoulder like a slut, eyelashes fluttering coquettishly as he’s staring into Tyki’s unforgiving eyes, his back is impossibly arched and his ass is popped out for Tyki, delicate feet curling for Tyki’s fetishist pleasure.  
  
Tyki must’ve thrown his consumed blunt into Allen's ashtray, and Allen would have normally scolded him for that, but he doesn’t give a fuck right now, not when Tyki is unzipping his jeans behind him and he’s pushing his cock between Allen's ass cheeks, penetrating him with a fierce, cruel snap of his hips.  
  
Then Allen finally sits down on Lavi’s cock, pussy and ass completely stretched, completely filled, completely numb, and Tyki is already gripping his hipbones, and he slings one arm around Allen’s neck, keeps him in place, he leans over Allen’s shoulder to push his tongue into his mouth, dark cock throbbing hard into Allen’s ass, Lavi's pulsating erection filling Allen’s cunt up, up to the hilt, his large hands roaming over Allen’s thighs, appreciating him, loving him, drugging himself of him.  
  
He can feel Tyki’s tobacco breath, his skin smells of weed and Allen hates it but he’s hungry, he’s thirsty and he’s assaulting Tyki’s lips, sucking on his tongue and biting his lips as he bounces on Lavi’s cock, as he skilfully fucks himself back against Tyki’s dripping dick. Maybe he does it out of spite, maybe he does it because he likes to enrage Tyki, to make a fool out him, but he breaks the kiss and bends down to kiss Lavi’s lips instead, smoothing his hands all over Lavi’s pectorals as he moans quietly, the mattress creaking under their weight, under Tyki’s most forceful thrusts.  
  
Allen’s eyes are up, he’s seeing heaven, and he’s not even high, but he is hopelessly anchored to a reality that numbs him; he’s assured that he’ll still be Lavi’s best friend, that things will proceed smoothly because nobody is going to fall in love, because his heart is already intoxicated and he’ll keep on loving Tyki even if it is hard, even if it is dangerous, and college is hard _and_ he won’t stop loving because he’s young and thoughtful and he’s a mess, who knows if Tyki can truly fix him or break him.  
  
(“I'd like to watch you get fucked by another man,” Tyki said. He was smoking a cigarette, a red Marlboro, and he looked incredibly amazed by his own suggestion. Allen wondered if he was testing him.

They were sitting at the café by the seaside, the breeze was warm and soothing and it set him on fire, the scent of salt filled Allen’s nose, Tyki was taking a sip from his coffee. Allen threw him an alluring look, half-lidded eyes and that cheeky tiny smile of his.  
  
Tyki put his arm around Allen’s shoulders and put his own cigarette into Allen’s mouth, Allen’s eyes fluttering shut as he took a sinful drag. Inebriating. Tyki brushed his nose against Allen’s ear, pressed a kiss to his lobe. “Would you like that?” he asked, voice less tempting and more affectionate. When he said that, the breeze filled Allen’s lungs and he never understood why his whole body was tingling.  
  
“Why are you asking such a thing?” Allen said, extremely relaxed. He affronted Tyki’s eyes, tricked him at his own foolishness.  
  
Tyki’s black curls were wild and unkempt, his lips carefully pursed to take another sip from the tiny mug and the cigarette still burning between his fore and middle finger. A Cuban beauty, Allen thought. Music in his blood, passion and beauty giving meaning to his existence.  
  
“Because I thought you'd like to spice up our relationship,” Tyki replied. A pause - he always took his time for anything, didn’t care that he made people wait. “I’m not jealous, boy. I _would_ be jealous if I knew you could possibly cheat on me. But you won’t, baby. I know you too well. I’d like to see things about you I’ve never had the chance to experiment by myself.”  
  
He spoke honestly, with a simplicity that was almost genuine, almost adorably naive, because he was giving his heart to Allen, and his loving smile was the evidence of his dreams. “If you’re into it, of course, that is. I’ve seen the way you look at the redhead.”  
  
Allen tilted his head to look at the sea, smiled as wide as he’d never had before because he’d never felt so alive and there was no reason why he shouldn’t have given in to his ephemeral impulses.  
  
“You're fucking crazy,” Allen muttered, visibly amused, and laughed when Tyki laughed, “you kinky bastard. You spend all your time imagining me in nasty situations, don’t you? And you know what? I’d like that.”  
  
_Because he couldn’t love anyone else more than he loved him.)_  
  
Allen is kissing Lavi, Lavi is bucking his hips up and he’s about to cum, Tyki is nosing through Allen’s hair and he’s gasping with that masculine, hoarse voice of his, the euphoria is rising higher and summer is stifling, summer is hazy, summer is sad, and Allen couldn’t be any more filled with immense love. He knows that when it will be over, Tyki will ride with his friends and Allen will have to study for a brighter future, Lavi will smile and shrug it off like it’s nothing, and they would dance to the parties because noise is the only escape from the deafening torture of their minds.  
  
It comes, it comes, it comes; the sensation that Allen adores, the sticky feeling of Tyki’s cum filling his ass, dripping between his legs, the pulse of Lavi’s cock into his pussy as he’s tensing, but he makes Allen slip off his own dick and pumps himself from tip to the base, driving himself to the edge and finally staining Allen’s mattress and his own hand, that Allen immediately takes between his own so that he can lick it off his fingers. Lavi is watching him with horrid intrigue, with the same glint of Tyki’s eyes, and Allen fears it might be what he thinks it is; they are in love, in love, in love, how can he fix it?  
  
(“You know, boy,” Tyki leaned down to kiss Allen’s forehead, put his hand on Allen’s nape and pulled him close, letting Allen rest his head on his shoulder, filling his lungs with the smell of tobacco that impregnated Tyki’s clothes.

“There is only thing I love more than myself,” he chuckled quietly, his words waited carefully as though he was about to say something that would've never been voiced wasn’t it for its genuineness, “and that is you.”

Until that day, Allen still couldn’t conceive the reason why the only sensation he had felt was an immense, beautiful sadness.)  
  
He curls up against Lavi’s chest, Lavi’s fingers through his hair as he murmurs a praise, melting Allen’s heavy heart. “You’re fantastic.”  
  
Tyki smiles, laying by Allen’s side, proud and satisfied.  
  
It is enough. Allen closes his eyes. 


End file.
